


Ashes

by ASweaterForColdWeather



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Peter Quill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:42:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASweaterForColdWeather/pseuds/ASweaterForColdWeather
Summary: Peter wakes up, and he cant breath.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Creative title? Nope,  
> Endgame spoilers? Probably
> 
> Mistakes are on me, dont be afraid to point em out!!

 Peter jolted, eyes briefly flying open, but he quickly shut them in attempt to shoo away the nausea. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself, (which, he thought, sitting on the top bunk of his bed after everything had happened, eyes puffy and red, and tired beyond belief, although to scared to go to sleep, it had been when he turned to ashes.), choking on something that felt oddly like large dust particles.

Panic hit him full force. He couldn't  _breath,_ there was something lodged in his  _throat,_ his chest was caving in on  _itself._ a strangled cry escaped him, a cloud of whatever was in his throat came flying out, although there was still  _so much_ left in there, it fell down further once some was dislodged, and he choked more, heaving.

"Shit- Kid-" there was a voice, and someone crouched next to him, a hesitant, yet comforting touch on his shoulder. "Are you okay? Damn, sorry, stupid question, you're obviously not." A different hand pushes Peter's sweat slicked hair out of his closed eyes, hand brushing against his eyelashes. "Can you breath for me, Peter?" 

He shook his head, shoving away the dizziness it caused, small wheezes escaping him. The other person only mumbled a "you can, Pete, try for me, okay?" And Peter shook his head in response, for he really couldn't, throat too stuffed with dust. Desperately, he tried to breath out the dust, show the other person that no, he couldn't breath, he had been trying the whole time but his throat was blocked.

He coughed, finally, dust -  _ashes -_ flying from his mouth, a strangled noise escaping him as it fell further down his throat.

 ~~~~ _"oh, fuck!"_ a hand slid behind his back, pushing him up so he was sitting, and Peter leaned over, dust already falling from his lips now that he wasnt on his back. He coughed more, desperately trying to get all the dust out of his throat, eyes watering. The hand began to pat his back, trying to help. There was someone else, he could tell by the soft hand that was placed on his cheek. "Is he okay?" It was soft spoken, and sweet. "Not at the moment, Mantis" the other mumbled, still patting Peter's back as more dust coated his lips. 

There seemed to be two other people there as well, although uncertain and didnt want to get involved, for the moment at least. Although most of the dust had left his body, (he supposed the dust was a part of him that would, well, no longer be part of him) he was far from okay, remembering the pain that tore through him as he slowly disintegrated, every fiber of his being falling apart. "No, nonono, please, please.." Peter wheezed, he could still feel the pain ripping it's way through his body, and he couldn't tell if he was still dying. Fuck, he had  _died._ "please, I dont wanna go, i dont wanna.." 

"Peter, Peter, you're okay, can you open your eyes for me?" He whined, but slowly opened his eyes, wincing. He was met with the sight of Peter Quill, a hand on his chest and back, face plastered with concern, and Mantis next to him, hand on his cheek. 

"W-What?.." he rasped, throat incredibly dry. (Of course, there was no way it couldn't be) "you're okay, Peter, you're not dying, we're not dying. You're alive and well, okay?" Peter nodded mutely, although he didnt feel okay, short, small spasms wracked his body, pain pulsing through him, although it hurt less then it did moments before. 

He felt his cheeks get damp, face flushing as we realized he was  _crying._ He whined again, rubbing his eyes desperately. "S-Sorry.." He watched Peter Quill press the palms of his hands into his eyes, and he shrank in on himself, afraid that he had done something wrong. "Theres nothing to be sorry about" he spoke after a moment of silence, reaching over to ruffle the younger Peter's hair affectionately. He may not have known the kid for long, but he was so sweet and caring, and just, _young,_ too young to be fighting in this war, he couldn't help but feel a strong sense of protectiveness towards him.

Stephen stepped out from behind Peter, crouching in front of him. He sighed, seeming to rethink what he was going to say, in the end, settling with a rather lame, "how are you doing, Peter?" But he appreciated it all the same.

"I-I'm okay.." he gave a wavering smile, still trying to wipe away his tears. The Doctor didnt look convinced. "What's this then?" He reached out, lightly swiping at a place under Peter's eye with his thumb. "I-I- No! I'm fine! Really!" He moved away, now angrily scrubbing at his eyes.

Stephen sat back, watching. He had little to no experience with children, and just wasnt a very comforting person overall. He wasnt sure what to do, and guessed no one else knew either. But of course, that never stopped Peter Quill.

The older Peter reached out, gently placing his hand on the youngers shoulder. "Hey, its okay to be upset, we all just died, and it's scary, kid." Peter launched himself into Quill's embrace without a second thought, a choked sob forcing it's way out of his throat. "Its okay, kid." Quill, getting over his shock, began to rub the teens back. "Its okay." 

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck man, I just saw Endgame, and I gotta say, I'm hella sad


End file.
